Through My Eyes
by Grey Streaked Fur
Summary: Sophia has lived at Xavier's school for her entire life. Now that she is about to take the first steps into her own life journey, she reflects on the people that raised her and the lessons and values they have taught her.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello all!

So I'm writing this little story that will be using a slightly different style of writing an a different perspective on some of our favorite characters through the eyes of a young woman who has spent her entire life around them.

Please review, I want to know your opinions!

* * *

I love walking through the back garden.

Aunt Ororo always plants the most unique and beautiful flowers. I would like to say I knew the names of each and every type of flower I passed by, but alas, that would be a blatant lie. I have never been very interested in plants; I am just simply attracted to the colors some of them procure.

When I was little, I would spend hours playing hide and seek with various aunts and uncles throughout the garden. As I grew older, I would seek sanctuary behind the looming hedges in the corner of the grounds...A large portion of my life revolved around this area.

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters has been my home my entire life. Charles adopted me after I was discovered on the mansion's front steps one chilly morning. He raised me, along with several other beautiful, wonderful people...I'm not jesting when I say several others, I honestly have enough aunts and uncles to make at least two Football teams. Now that I think about it, they could probably go pro with the kind of training they go through.

I notice and pick a large, orange flower that was hanging in my face. You could tell me it was a hydrangea or a daffodil and I would believe you. Like I said, I'm not so good with plants. It has a faint, sweet smell.

I am really going to miss it here.

Part of me wants to experience the world, to live and learn about the rest of the society, beyond these ivy covered walls, but San Francisco is such a long ways away...

The other part of me would rather stick with a community college in New York, so I could still be close to my family. Sometimes I fear that the mansion will blow up if I'm not around to keep an eye on things. Charles needs a least one other sane person help him keep things in line. He had even admitted that the school might morph into a zoo once I'm off to school.

Sure, there will still be summer and winter breaks to return home for. I'm not sure I could survive a Christmas or Forth of July without my wonderfully crazy family. I know it won't be the same though.

It sucks to grow up sometimes.

I finally reach my destination, a large, sturdy oak tree near the back wall of the rounds. I have spent many a summer under that tree, reading and sleeping underneath it's thick branches.

Running my hand along the bark, I find the familiar divot on the one side that had been the direct result of my childhood negligence fifteen years ago.  
A story and lesson that I would forever share with my uncle Scott.

* * *

A/n: this is just the prologue to the story, the rest of the chapters will each center around one cannon character and will be longer than this first one.

Thanks for reading and stay tuned!


	2. Uncle Scott

A/N: The first short story of many, each one will focus on a well know character from the X-Men. Please read and review. If you have suggestions for a short story, I'm all ears!

* * *

Uncle Scott and I have never been exceptionally close, even at a young age I saw him as the uncle that was the least fun and the last adult I would attempt to earn affection from.

That isn't to say I don't love him, quite the contrary; I love him with every fiber of my being, as I do all my aunts and uncles. But love and like are two very separate things in my book. I have never been overly fond of Scott, I suppose he and I are just very different people.

I have tried several times to form a stronger bond with my uncle, but I think the only time we ever came close to that point was right next to this tree, all those years ago.

I guess it makes it rather ironic that my first complete childhood memory is of my uncle Scott. Before then, I only remember blurbs and quick images that are too short to make much sense of.

* * *

I must have been around three years old. At that time, I had allegedly been a little terror. Many members of my family have told me stories of a toddler-aged me running around breaking vases, bringing bugs inside the mansion, stealing car keys and once even pouring an entire bag of flour onto the kitchen floor.

I remember that it was a beautiful afternoon, the sun was shining and the blue sky was unmarred by clouds. It was the perfect day to play outside.

"Char-elz, will you play outside with me today?" I remember asking my adopted father as he tried to dress me in my favorite overalls. I imagine it was no easy feat for him to dress a squirming child whilst being bound to a wheelchair, but if anyone could manage, it would be Charles Xavier.

"Sorry Sophia, but I have an important meeting with some friends of mine, remember? I can't play today," He said, setting me on his lap.

"Aw poop, uncle Hank can't play either, he said he was busy doing spere' mints," I huffed.

Charles chuckled, though I didn't quite understand why.

"EXperiments, sweetie. Uncle Hank is busy with an experiment," he gently corrected. "And don't worry, uncle Scott already agreed to watch you this afternoon.

I made a face and stared down disappointedly at my silver buttons.

"Come now, no pouting, your uncle Scott loves you very much."

"I know, but he's no fun to play with," I deadpanned, crossing my arms.

"With an attitude like that, I'm sure it won't be fun. I'm sure your uncle has a great day planned for you."

"Alrighty," I said with a hopeful smile.

"That's my girl," Charles gave me a quick kiss on the forehead before lowering me to the floor. "Now, go brush your teeth,"

I groaned and sauntered off to the bathroom.

Uncle Scott, however, had nothing planned.

"What are we doing today, uncle Scott?" I asked as I clung to the side of his leg. He looked down on me with an air of nervousness.

"What would you like to do today Sophia?"

"Let's go to the Zoo today!" I said automatically, shaking his leg with excitement.

From the ages of two to eight, I had an obsession with the local zoo, I would constantly beg to go and see all the animals, especially the aviary. I loved watching all the beautifully exotic birds. I had gone there so often that by the time I was six, all of the workers there knew me by name.

"Didn't you just go there last week with uncle Bobby?" Scott asked, folding his arms.

"Uh huh! We looked at the toucans and parrots...and then we saw 'em feed the monkeys!"

"That's what I thought."

"So, can we go?"

"No. You've been there every week for the past month, don't you think it's time to take a break?"

"But, the birds..."

"...Will still be there the next time you go, why don't we stay here today?"  
I made a face, so much for having a good attitude.

But, I was a child chalk-full of ingenuity, I always knew how to keep myself entertained.

"Could we have a picnic?"

"A picnic?"

"Yeah! We can even have a tea party, and have cake and ice cream and jello and Chocolate see-rup!"

Uncle Scott gave me a strange look. He scratched the back of his head, pondering.

"Alright, alright...we can have a picnic, but only healthy snacks, we don't need you bouncing all over the place,"

"Uncle Bobby lets me have those at our picnics," I pouted,crossing my arms.

"That's because uncle Bobby is junk food addict, not to mention he's a five year old trapped in an adult's body..." He said, taking my hand as we walked inside.

I stared blankly at him, not quite understanding his words.

"Uncle Bobby is really five?" I asked.

"Oh, sorry, sometimes I forget you're only three," uncle Scott sighed.

"I'm three and a half!" I corrected him, as I did everyone who thought I was just three.

"Right," he mumbled before opening the large doors that lead into the main kitchen. I skipped through as he held the door open for me and even remembered to say thank you.

Uncle Scott reminded me once more about only picking out heathy foods for our picnic, I made a face but grudgingly nodded.

Within the next few minutes I had managed to open every cupboard within reach, pulling out crackers, trail mix and several types of granola bars. I even managed to grab ahold of some snack cakes, which lead to an argument with my uncle over the nutritional value of Little Debbie's. In the end, I was allowed to split one as a small dessert for our picnic outing.

Uncle Scott was also quite unenthusiastic over my desire to bring along some "friends" which included a beautiful doll my aunt Jean had given me, a stuffed bluejay and a red plastic fire truck.

"Why do you want to bring those?" I remember him asking, he stood there, arms crossed, leaning against one of the walls in my room as I grabbed my most beloved possessions.

"Because they make me happy," I said with the basic logic of a toddler. Uncle Scott merely raised an eyebrow but didn't question me again.

Nevertheless, he wasn't very keen about playing pretend as I served each of my toys a plate at our picnic, he shifted awkwardly on the beach towel we had laid out next to the old oak tree, looking uncomfortable. He let out a sigh.  
"Do you want more apple juice, Pancake?" I asked the stuffed bird, holding the juice box up to its beak.

"Do you want some, Uncle Scott?" I asked, holding it up to his face now.

"Err...no thank you, I'm fine," he responded, gently pushing it away. I frowned, I didn't understand why my uncle was so uptight all the time. All my other aunts and uncles were much more relaxed around me, sometimes I worried that he didn't like me very much.

During that point in my life, when I was afraid that someone was angry or upset with me, I would become very cuddly, hugging them while I played with their hair or shirt while giving them puppy dog eyes. This would always procure a smile or a laugh, which had gotten me out of trouble several times during my childhood. So, in an attempt to get my uncle to like being around me, I suddenly jumped into his lap. Uncle Scott looked down at me in surprise.

"Yes Sophia, what is it?" He asked stiffly, apparently immune to my charm.

"Nothin," I said innocently as I rubbed my face into his shirt. I looked up at him with my sweetest of expressions. I was met with a blank, ruby quartz, stare. I frowned, I believing that I wasn't trying hard enough.

I suppose it was at that point that my three year old mind registered the fact that I had never seen my uncle Scott's eyes, and at that point I had no idea why. He had never taken them off in front of me, for the first part of my life, I assumed that they were a part of his face, but I had recently reached an age where I began to notice the things at made people different.

I suppose it was a mix of my curiosity and desire to be adorable that possessed me to reach out for my uncle's red glasses, I wanted to be cutesy by putting them on my own face, I had done that all the time with uncle Hank's reading glasses.

"Sophia, stop it!" Uncle Scott shouted, swatting my hand away.

I took that as some type of challenge, being told 'no', just made me want to do it more. I struggled against him, trying to grab his glasses. He continued to try to hold me at arms length, shouting at me to stop.

Somehow I struggled enough to slap at his visor, causing them to slip. My uncle threw me out of the way as a beam of red light jetted out of his eyes. I watched in horror as the ray nicked the side of the oak tree we were sitting under and making contact with a large shrub, which exploded into a charred mess.

I cried.

Uncle Scott had managed to quickly adjust his glasses into place, he looked just a scared as I was feeling.

"Sophia, are you alright?!" He cried, picking me up off of the grass. I managed to nod between my sobs.

Uncle Scott's expression rapidly changed from worried to livid.

"Sophia, I told you not to touch my glasses! I could have really hurt you! You deliberately disobeyed me and could have caused a disaster!

I began to cry even harder.

"I jus-wannato wear 'um," I slurred, hiccuping slightly and scared out of my mind.

"Sophia," he said sternly, though with less anger in his voice, " Sophia, you were very close to getting hurt, I could have injured you very badly. I don't know what I would do if I was responsible for hurting you...I'd never forgive myself," he let out a shaky breath.

I reached out to him as he knelt in the grass, breathing heavily. He pulled me into a hug, holding me as I finished crying.

"I'm sorry," I sniffed, resting my head on my uncle's shoulder.

"I know."

I remained attached his side the rest of the day, and tried to be on my best behavior. I wanted him to know how truly sorry I was for not listening, and that I would never do it again.

That night when Charles returned to the mansion, uncle Scott told him of the day's events and I was sent to my room, where I was to remain for the remainder of the week. It was the first, though certainly not the last, time I had been grounded.

That day I learned two valuable lessons, the first being the consequences of neglecting to listen to an adult, and the second being that love comes in different forms. My uncle Scott may not have openly been affectionate towards me, but he still loves me, in his own silent, uptight way.

* * *

I finish brushing the scar on the tree with my fingers, and sigh. The location of my first memory, and I was going to leave it behind. I take a minute and close my eyes, silently saying farewell to an old friend, before walking away.

I saunter off through back through the garden, taking a different path that leads to the front yard. I pass by the rows of small flowers. (Daffodils, Peonies?) To the large front door, the main entrance to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

I stand there, staring dumbly up and the archway, complete with intricately sculpted details. I almost had the urge to ring the doorbell, like I would every Halloween after trick or treating, hoping to con one of my family members into giving me the remainder of the candy bowl.

Another memory is creeping into my mind, one about the Halloween I spent with my uncle Kurt.

* * *

A/N: Cyclops is done, next up in Nightcrawler! Yey!

Please review!


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